


Scraping his face on the Sky

by banorawhites



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Music, fuck shinra, i wanted some cid angst so here is cid angst, listen to tally hall you guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banorawhites/pseuds/banorawhites
Summary: Cid is 28. The rocket might not have launched the first time, but there's always the next time. Provided Shinra ever get back to him, of course...
Kudos: 4





	Scraping his face on the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> this started because of a joke about how cid runs. i don't know how i got here.

The first time ivy starts creeping up the scaffolding around the rocket, Cid grabs it in a gloved hand and yanks, tearing the stubborn leaves off the structure and tossing them behind him. He kicks the remains of the creeper away from the metal, hoping to disturb the roots enough that it won’t grow back any time soon. If they’re fixing this rocket, the last thing they need is to work through layers of foliage.

He ascends the ladder to sit at the top of the maintenance platform atop it, untucking the crumpled cigarette packet from the band of his goggles and placing a cigarette between his lips, fishing for his lighter in his jacket pockets. The wind was strong this high up, but with a practised hand and some careful manoeuvring, he manages to light the cig, taking a deep breath and exhaling, watching the smoke be blown away along with the leaves he had just yanked up. The sky is a dismal grey, and Cid can tell it’s going to rain. He knows Shera is going to nag at him later for staying out in the wet, but it’s hardly her thing to worry about. He can take plenty care of himself. At 28, you’d think he’d finally understand how to keep himself alive.

Crushing the cigarette under his boot, he steps inside the tilting rocket, gripping the wall to help him navigate the slanted floors. He makes his way up slowly, crouching slightly to avoid the ceilings. As he nears the cockpit, he hears the now-familiar sound of metal shrieking. All he does is plant his feet and wait until the screeching subsides. When the floor stops shaking, he steps forward again, noting that the view outside has shifted by a few degrees. If the rocket leans any further it’s going to fall completely, he knows that. Straight onto his house, and what a fucking cruel joke that would be.

Still, he can’t help coming up here. If Shinra ever manage to decide what they’re doing with the rocket, Cid wants to make sure it’s in prime condition so they can relaunch as soon as possible- Shera at a safe distance, preferably a continent away. As much as he knows she’s a talented scientist and reliable engineer, the loss of the launch has weighed on him as if he was the one trying to keep the rocket upright and not the scaffolding.

Scuffing his feet over the already marked floors, he runs a gloved hand over the control panel slowly. It still looks new, providing uncomfortable contrast to the weathered metal protecting it from the elements. Had he not been religiously taking care of the interior, he doubted it would look as good. The rest of the crew had long since abandoned it, but Cid was determined he would get his baby airborne one day. He was nothing if not determined. The word hard-headed springs to mind, but he ignores it. It wasn’t his fault for being the only one on the team dedicated enough to still care for his rocket once Shinra pulled the plug.

He hears the tap of rain against the fuselage and sighs. He’s going to be in here for a while unless the rain lets up. Turning to the toolbox he left propped up against the seats, he begins rummaging and picks something to tinker with.

* * *

Cid is stood in his kitchen when he notices the two strangers. They’re young, barely older than teenagers, and filled with the kind of excited energy Cid has come to miss.

Strangers around here are rare. The town’s so small everyone knows everyone and their mother. It’s even rarer that the strangers don’t make an immediate beeline to someone’s house.

Cid continues to watch surreptitiously, using the mug he was holding onto to hide the lower half of his face. It doesn’t do much, but at least he’s not drawing attention to himself, and the warmth through his palms grounds him.

He keeps his eyes trained on the two strangers until he sees the man reach for a camera, and he has to fight the urge to fling the mug at the window.

He’s a tourist. Out on a fucking day trip to Rocket Town- that’s what people had begun calling it. A temporary settlement for the crew was now a full-fledged town because no one had moved out in years.

The Rocket’s a tourist attraction. His Rocket, the one he poured his blood, sweat and tears into is now the subject of someone’s holiday pictures. He can’t tell whether the emotion he feels in the pit of his stomach is nausea or rage. Either way, something is about to come spilling out of his mouth if he doesn’t control himself.

He grips the handle of the mug tight, trying to focus on that grounding heat again. He tries to take a sip, but the liquid burns his lips, and he can hardly focus on blowing on it to cool it down.

His dreams, everything he stood for were a sight for someone to photograph and move on. Shinra were letting it happen, with no word about the continuation of the project. They had gone completely radio silent.

Cid’s hands begin to shake, and he hurls the cup at the opposite wall with an inchoate yell, sending scalding tea splashing over his hand, as well as the floor. He turns away quickly, running his other hand through his hair, tugging on the strands and trying to calm himself down, He begins pacing around the kitchen table before his hand starts to burn, and he winces slightly. He hadn’t realised just how hot the liquid was until now, and walks to the sink, turning the cold water on before sticking his hand underneath.

He sighs and uses his free hand to rub his face before resting his elbow on the counter, leaning against it and waiting for the stinging in his hand to subside. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel any better. He’d assumed flinging the cup would help, but he still feels just as pissed off with the whole situation. Not pissed off, something further… he can’t find the word for it, and all he can do with his voice is groan, thumping the counter with his good fist before pulling his hand out from underneath the water and turning the tap off. With his luck, his hand’s going to blister, which will leave him out of commission for a few days. A few days to sit and stew, and to watch the rocket tilt even more, leaning in closer and closer to falling on top of him.

At this point, he can’t tell if he’d welcome it or not. All he’d lose would be his life and the Tiny Bronco. Shinra already took the Highwind and the rocket, they might as well take this from him too.

Cid laughs, even if he doesn’t know why, and turns his gaze to the rocket, noting the greenery starting to creep up the side, covering the rusting metal. The rocket’s getting old, just as he is. 30 and still lingering on a childhood dream. At least the rocket’s not quite as sick with longing as he is. The rocket doesn’t yearn for space as he does. It’s a means to an end. As much as Cid loves her, she was only ever meant to take him to space. Poor old girl, he thinks, before crossing the room to pick up the shattered pieces of the mug.

* * *

Cid feels like there’s dynamite in his chest. If he thinks too quickly, he’s going to explode.  
A week ago, he got a call from Palmer. He and President Shinra were coming to visit Rocket Town, which meant one thing.

They were making a decision on the space program.

They’re going to arrive in hours. He’s been checking the time on his PHS religiously, and when it got too much, he left to look over the rocket again.

Brown ivy leaves crunch under his boots as he climbs the ladder, stepping inside and surveying the interior one last time. He can memorise every screw, every dent, every scratch. She’s lost her gleam over the years, but she’s no less impressive than she was on the day of the launch.

“We’re gonna get up there, old girl. You an’ me both. Trust me on this.”

Cid crouches down and runs his hand over the scuffed metal floor, worn smooth and dull by his footfall. He and her, putting on their best faces for the President. As much as Cid has grown to hate Shinra, a young president is just what they need. Someone with a fresh mindset, a newer vision, and a passion. Cid had watched his parade in Junon and was blown away by it all. The former President’s ascension was before Cid was born, but he had faith in the newer Shinra.

Outside, he hears a clatter, and Cid shoots to his feet, turning around and seeing a man dressed in the familiar Shinra blue. For a moment, he thinks it’s one of the President’s bodyguards, and that he’s going to be late to meet him, but when the first words out of the man’s mouth are “Can we borrow the Tiny Bronco?” Cid realises it’s just another stranger.

“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind? The Tiny Bronco’s my life’s work!” Cid shouts. It’s not his life’s work, but it’s all he has left of it. He’s not letting some kid who looks like he’s barely touched a plane before “borrow” it. He needs something to maintain his link to the sky. Shinra took the Highwind and the rocket. No one is touching his place.

He doesn’t remember all of what he says after that, but he remembers telling the kid to “Get the fuck outta’ my rocket ‘fore the President gets here!” eliciting a panicked response from the man, who turned heel and left. Cid barely gets a moment to pause before he remembers the time and books it after the stranger, climbing down the ladder three rungs at a time and jumping the last few, thanking every god he knew that his spear training meant that he could land properly and hadn’t just shattered his ankles. He takes off running back to the house and finds the stranger stood in there, accompanied by two girls. They’re trying to steal his fucking ship-

“We got guests! Get some tea! Shit-” Cid shouts to Shera, hoping he can get her to stall them long enough to get the Tiny Bronco locked away. It’s a race against time, especially since he heard the sound of an airship in the distance, and even that far away he knows it’s his fucking airship.

“Really, don’t mind us.” The potential thief says, and Cid knows he’s just trying to make excuses.

“Shut up! Sit your ass down in that chair and drink your goddamn tea!” He shouts before taking off into the backyard where his plane is waiting. However, he’s barely able to get in and roll the plane a few metres before he hears the roar of airship engines and the whipping of wind against the plane. He curses to himself again and hops out, running back into the house, wheezing slightly as he slams the door open.

“Shera! You still haven’t served ‘em tea!” He yells, knowing they can’t move an inch until Cid can get enough time to lock the plane away. “My hospitality not good enough for you?” He adds, for good measure, before storming to the front door and being greeted by Palmer. He tries to ignore him as much as he can and pushes past him to see the President on the other side.

He can’t help the nervous smile that makes its way onto his face, offering his hand for the President to shake. He opens his mouth to introduce himself before-

“We need your Tiny Bronco.”

Cid feels his heart sink to his feet.

Shinra took space away from him, and now they’re taking the sky away from him too. He tells Rufus as much and is only met with a laugh in return.

“You seem to forget it was because of Shinra that you were able to fly in the first place.”

The red mist falls, and were Rufus not surrounded by Soldiers, Cid would have beaten the man to a pulp. Who the fuck was he to take away the skies from him? He’d built the Tiny Bronco on his own, drawn up the plans, built the parts, got his own fucking materials for fuck’s sake! All Shinra did was foot half the bill, and now they were claiming ownership.

“It’s because of your fuckin’ Shinra I’ve been rottin’ here for years! Me and the damn rocket both! I’ve been workin’ my ass off for you just so I can finally get to space, an’ you forget about it just like that? You were at the fuckin’ launch, you saw how excited people were! People loved this! I loved it! You fuckin’ snot-nosed brats don’t know shit about dreams! You’ve never had to work for shit! Just cause you got everything handed to you on a silver fuckin’ platter don’t mean the rest of us did too!” He roars, and he can hear the sound of Soldiers readying their guns. He resigns himself to death then and there, but all of a sudden he realises none of the bullets hit him, and are instead aimed overhead at-

The Tiny Bronco.

The plane is flying low, and Cid takes off into a run, sprinting after the ship. He can already feel his legs and lungs burning, and as he jumps to grab onto the wing and pull himself up, he realises he’s way too old for this shit.

He resigns himself to death again as the plane begins to careen towards the ocean, and he braces against the tail of the plane, feeling the crash as they hit the water, but the plane begins to float, and he flops down, staring back towards Rocket Town.

He can see the metal tip of the rocket peeking above the trees, and gets a feeling deep in his gut that he’s not going to be returning for a long time.

“Gonna miss you.” He mutters, and he’s not sure if he’s speaking to the rocket or the sky.


End file.
